


Resisting Reshuffling

by theparadoxicalfox, TrulyMightyPotato



Series: Royal Flush [21]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Crying, Gen, Refusal to move on, visiting a grave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14823023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theparadoxicalfox/pseuds/theparadoxicalfox, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyMightyPotato/pseuds/TrulyMightyPotato
Summary: It's been two weeks since MatPat got put on probation, which means it's time to face the music.





	Resisting Reshuffling

MatPat burrowed into his jacket, staring at the grave in front of him.

The silence stretched between him and Jason for a long time. It usually did these days, as MatPat felt strange laying all his worries out to a corpse and Jason didn’t make much for conversation.

Finally, MatPat sighed and ran a hand over his hair. A few stray locks escaped from the rest.

“What am I supposed to do, Jason? I can’t find either of them. It feels like I  _ lost _ progress on finding them these past two weeks.” He shook his head, the soft spring breeze blowing his mussed hair into little wiggly bits. 

He hadn’t had use of any of his normal tools in the past two weeks. Suspension did that.

“What am I supposed to do if I walk in there later, and Nate decides I’ve got to go?” MatPat stared helplessly at Jason’s gravestone. “It’s... the job is all I have left. It’s the only thing that’s been keeping my head above the water.”

Nate wouldn’t do that, right? He’d said himself MatPat was a good detective. Nate needed good men. Surely he’d keep MatPat around.

“What if he decides to give me a new partner? It was about this long after you died that I got Gar. It stands to logic that it’d be about time for it… again.”

He didn’t want a new partner, though. He wanted Gar back. He wanted to know Gar was safe and well and happy. He wanted to work by his side, to apologize for letting Gar get hurt in the first place, for not being there for him.

Was that really too much to ask?

“What if Carpett has replaced Nate already, and the new person isn’t as friendly or as understanding? What am I supposed to do then?”

While Jason didn’t answer—he couldn’t, after all—MatPat knew what his old friend would have said:  _ “You’re not going to find out by just standing here.” _

MatPat sighed and crouched, placing one hand on Jason’s headstone. The chill of the stone slowly seeped through his glove. But it helped, a little bit, and gave MatPat enough of a pause to gather his courage. He stood and tugged his hat back on from where he’d discarded it on the ground when he’d first arrived a while ago. He turned to leave, but paused and glanced over his shoulder to say, “Thanks for listening, Jason. I couldn’t replace you if I tried.”

\-----

It was odd for MatPat to see the precinct building now, and that in itself was odd. He’d only been gone for two weeks: weeks he’d spent trying to find new clues about Gar or Steph, with nothing new rearing its head. It shouldn’t be so strange to be back here. He’d worked here for  _ years _ . He’d gone on leave to go visit family before, and been gone longer than two weeks.

So why was it so strange to see the precinct now?

MatPat stared at the familiar building for a minute longer before shaking his head and pushing the thought aside. It didn’t matter. He was here to get taken off suspension, to get back on the saddle and get some real work done.

Just... as long as none of the fears he’d expressed to Jason came true. He didn’t think he could handle any of those, not right now.

He took a deep breath and pushed his way in through the doors.

Instantly, familiar sensations washed over him: the soft chatter of officers at their desks, whether it was gossip or work; the strong smell of coffee that meant someone had spilled some again; footsteps wandering and thudding and creaking across the polished wood floor as people went about their business; the squeaking and sliding of filing cabinets being accessed by someone out of sight; the constant clack of officers typing up reports; the faint laughter that sometimes wafted to his ears; the undeniably unique feeling in the air: stress from cases, grief for the awful things that happened, hope that things would get better, and cynicism that nothing would change.

It was so familiar, he almost expected to see Gar waiting for him, leaning against some wall or helping someone else get some stuff done before MatPat showed up—especially if MatPat was late.

Which—and MatPat was proud of this—he was actually a few minutes early. Tardiness wasn’t going to be the death of him today, no siree.

Gar wasn’t there, though. He hadn’t been for four months now. And, a corner of MatPat’s mind pointed out, at this point he wasn’t likely to come back.

No.

If he was around to be found, MatPat would find him.

But what if he didn’t want to be found? What if he’d left the city permanently? He was Faceless, after all. If they’d decided it was too dangerous for him, or that he was better off somewhere else, then...

No, he had to believe he’d see Gar again. He  _ had _ to.

MatPat made his way around the edge of the room to head to the offices, specifically to Nate’s office, trying to remain as unnoticed as possible. He hadn’t exactly left here on good terms two weeks ago (not that he really regretted what he’d done to O’Donnell after what the man had said), and he didn’t particularly want to see any of the accusatory or uneasy glances sent his way.

When he glanced up at the room, he caught Bob looking at him, a young man MatPat didn’t recognize talking to him. Probably Bob’s new partner. He looked uncomfortable enough inside the precinct to be new, at least, with how he was half-huddled in a trenchcoat. He’d have to meet him later.

Bob offered a smile and a nod, and then turned back to the other officer.

Something deep inside MatPat loosened at that. This wasn’t an entirely foreign place now. He and Bob weren’t quite friends, but at least they weren’t enemies.

That was something.

MatPat was at the door to Nate’s office now and blinked when he realized it was propped open. Nate was working quietly at his desk (probably doing paperwork, the bane of the precinct) and hadn’t seemed to notice MatPat yet. 

MatPat hesitated, then knocked on the doorframe.

Nate looked up and smiled. And while the smile seemed genuine, there was something sharp in Sharp’s eyes that dug deep into MatPat and examined him with all the warmth of a medical examiner preparing to autopsy a corpse.

“Matthew! Come on in, have a seat.” Nate gestured to the seat across from him.

MatPat obeyed, closing the door behind him while Nate collected his paperwork and stacked it neatly to the side.

“How have you been these last two weeks?” Nate leaned forward. “Well, I hope.”

“As well as I could be, given the circumstances.” MatPat sighed, and resisted the temptation to sink into the chair and out of sight. “Didn’t have a terrible lot to do.”

“Yes, well, suspension does tend to work that way.” Nate leaned back in his chair, hands clasped on his desk, and paused.

MatPat didn’t particularly feel like meeting his old friend’s gaze, so he instead let his own gaze wander to the various decorations Nate had put up. There weren’t many, at least not yet, but the room wasn’t looking so utilitarian and unfriendly as it had been the last time he’d been in here. A framed picture on the desk faced away from MatPat, and there were books on the bookshelf, a small plant on the filing cabinets, and a mask on the wall.

A mask on the wall.

MatPat’s attention lingered on that. He hadn’t seen any Faceless masks before, he didn’t think, so he couldn’t tell if this was one or not. It could be an old theatre prop, though it seemed too intricate for that. Sure, the metallic black base and the copper coils and gears seemed like something out of a play, but the gears themselves... there was something about them. One or two of them seemed almost  _ sharp,  _ like they could be removed and used as a weapon.

Nate wasn’t Faceless, though. MatPat had known him for a long time, since they were kids. Surely he would have noticed if one of his childhood neighbors had started training to be a Faceless. Surely Sanders would have if MatPat didn’t; the three of them had all grown up on the same street, after all.

The mask could have been a gift. Or a trophy, even, if Nate had met and taken care of Faceless before. (It sounded so casual thinking of it that way. Taken care of.) He seemed aware of their existence, or at least the rumors of them. One didn’t get to be police chief without having enough experience to hear about them.

“I was given that a few years ago,” Nate said, breaking into MatPat’s thoughts. “It’s really a piece of work, if I do say so myself.”

“It looks very well made,” MatPat agreed, turning his gaze back to Nate.

Nate nodded, then drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment.

“Are you ready to come back to work? We need your help getting things done.”

MatPat nodded. “Yeah.” He could get back to work, get stuff done, and use resources to continue hunting down Steph and Gar in his spare time. “I’m ready to get back into it.”

“Good.” Nate smiled brightly, warmly. “Most of the cases you had have been closed by now, though I made sure the ones about your wife and old partner remained open, at least for now.”

MatPat practically melted at that. If their cases were open, that meant he’d get help. He could use all the help he got.

Wait.

Old partner?

“Jason’s case has been closed for over a year, Nate.” Jason didn’t need anything more added to his case file. He was dead, and while finding out who killed him would be amazing, it wasn’t really necessary. Not at this point in time.

Nate furrowed his brow, pressed his lips together, and looked away.

“I wasn’t talking about Parker, Matt. I was talking about Bluemoon.”

“Gar is my  _ current _ partner.”

“He’s been missing for four months.” Nate shook his head. “I’m sorry, Matt, but I’ve got to give you a new one.”

“What? He’s still out there, Nate, I just have to find him!” MatPat vehemently gestured to the outside world.

“I’m not trying to keep you from that.” Nate made a calming gesture. “But I can’t have a detective wandering around without a partner. It’s a recipe for disaster. The last thing I need is you showing up dead in a gutter because nobody had your back.”

MatPat crossed his arms.

“And when I find him?”

Nate closed his eyes for a long moment before sighing.

“Do you really think you will?”

MatPat bristled before saying, “Of course I will.”

Nate pressed his lips together again, then turned and grabbed two of the files he had sitting on the edge of his desk. He held them out.

MatPat blinked, then uncrossed his arms to take them. He knew what they were without seeing what was written on them. He was the person who’d assembled them. What was Nate doing with the files on Steph and Gar’s cases?

He flipped the one on Steph open and stared at the top paper.

Two words were there that hadn’t been when he’d last updated these: Presumed dead.

Why- who had-

MatPat flipped the cover closed and opened Gar’s, only to have his heart further ripped in two. Gar’s picture was still there, one of the ones taken not too long after he’d started his rookie year, his partner beaming at something.

And those two same words.

Presumed dead.

“Why?”

“It’s been four months for Bluemoon, Matt. And five for your wife. We both know how this city works.” Nate was quiet, as if speaking too loudly would break MatPat.

He couldn’t say it wouldn’t have.

“No- they’re still out there, I know that.” MatPat shook his head, closing the folders and handing them back. “I have to believe that.”

“Steph’s long gone, Matt, and Bluemoon’s body is probably at the bottom of the river. Maybe if it had just been a month, but... it’s been too long, Matt, with all the things that go on here.”

MatPat shook his head, biting his lip in an effort to not cry. Nate was wrong, he had to be.

“I’m sorry, Matt. You’re allowed to grieve, but... you’ve got to move on. They’re not coming back.”

MatPat buried his face in his hands and choked back his tears.

“I-”

“It’s okay, Matt. I know how much they meant to you.”

MatPat stayed there for a minute, trying desperately to get his emotions under control. Finally, he gasped down a breath without feeling like he was going to burst into tears, and he looked up.

“If you’re convinced they’re dead, then why have their cases open?”

“Their killers still need to be brought to justice, Matt.” Nate shook his head. “I know it’s not much, but... it’s all I can offer you.”

“...and if I can find them anyway?”

“Then the cases will be changed accordingly.”

“...and I’ll get Gar back as my partner?”

Nate pursed his lips.

“I can’t promise anything. If,  _ if, _ you find him alive, by some miracle, there’s no telling what happened to him. He might not be able to take up detective work. Your notes say he might have been taken by Mir. We both know what that means.”

MatPat’s own mouth straightened unhappily.

“He wouldn’t want to give it up.”

“Matthew. Even if that miracle happens and he’s still alive, it would be a long time before he’s well enough to come back to the force. If you’re done training your new partner, if his rookie year is up by then, then maybe, but... probably not.”

MatPat swallowed.

“You’re giving me another rookie?”

“His name’s Snow. He was going to be partnered up with you the day I got instated-” the day MatPat had beat up O’Donnell “-but he’s been spending the time with Officer Static while you’ve been on leave.”

“I-” MatPat’s voice wobbled. “I don’t think I can handle another rookie. Not so soon.”

“Nobody else is available.”

MatPat’s vision began blurring with tears again- how was it possible he even still had any left? -and he shook his head.

“I don’t know, Nate.”

Nate handed him a handkerchief (a handker _ chief, _ technically, considering who it came from) and patted MatPat on the shoulder.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to compose yourself. I’ll go get him. Do me a favor and just... meet him. If you really don’t feel like you can do it after that, I’ll leave you on suspension for a while longer so you can grieve and get yourself together. Okay?”

MatPat buried his face in the handkerchief and nodded.

Nate gave him another shoulder pat, then his chair grated against the wooden floor and his footsteps walked past MatPat. The door opened, then closed.

MatPat was alone.

Nate was probably right about Steph and Gar, MatPat knew that. It had been  _ months, _ and Boston was not a kind place for those who went missing. Most were dead within a day. Others, dragged away never to return. Very few actually showed up again. Looking for missing people was a statistical exercise in futility.

But what if they were still out there? Still alive? In need of finding? He couldn’t give up on them.

MatPat sat there, mind turning gears. He couldn’t give up on them, he knew that much, but he couldn’t stay on suspension, either. He needed the tools the precinct had to help him look, he needed things to do to help keep him sane. And working alone was making this terribly difficult. Maybe this Snow fellow would help him come up with ideas, or at the least make the work not so lonely.

The door opened slowly, a bit hesitantly, before swinging open all the way and two people walked in: Nate, and the person who’d been talking with Bob when MatPat had come in earlier.

“Patrick, this is Snow. Snow, Detective Matthew Patrick.” Nate introduced the two as he walked back to his desk.

MatPat stood and shook the young man’s hand. He really was young. He had to be even younger than Gar.

(A corner of his mind pointed out that at this rate, by the time MatPat was ready for retirement, he’d be having literal babies as his partners.)

No, Snow couldn’t be  _ too _ much younger than Gar. There was a limit to how young you could be and be a detective.

“Good to meet you, Patrick,” Snow said with a smile.

“Please, call me Matthew, or Matt.” MatPat smiled back, calling on all of his acting skills to hold together.

“Can do.”

There was something about Snow that just kept reminding MatPat of Gar. Some of that was par for the course of getting a new partner, he knew that, but... this was more than what had happened when he’d gotten Gar. It might have been how young Snow was, but it also could have been his easy stance, his equally easy smile, how he seemed to know who he was even though he didn’t know what was going on.

Snow hesitated and looked over at Nate, and MatPat reflexively followed the glance.

Nate raised an eyebrow, seeming to ask MatPat what he thought.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Snow said slowly. “A lot of people like you.”

No, Snow’s belief in MatPat was what reminded him of Gar.

MatPat gave Nate the briefest of head shakes—he needed this, but... he couldn’t do it, not yet—and turned back to Snow with, “Hopefully you’ve heard good things.”

Snow laughed softly.

“Yeah. I have.”

Nate cleared his throat.

“Snow, if I could have a word with Patrick for just a moment? Then I’ll speak with you.”

“Sure thing, sir.” Snow gave Nate a half-salute and MatPat a smile, then left the room.

MatPat leaned on the back of the chair he’d been sitting in before.

“You can’t do it, can you.” It was clear Nate wasn’t asking a question.

MatPat shook his head.

“I- not yet. He’s already so much like Gar. I just... I need a bit of time.”

Nate tapped the arm of his chair before nodding.

“I’ll let you go, then. You’re not getting fired, but I’m not taking you off suspension either. We’ll talk again in a few weeks, okay?”

“Okay.”

Nate nodded again.

“Good luck, Matt. Take care of yourself.”


End file.
